


Good Things to Those Who Wait

by citrinesunset



Category: White Collar
Genre: Anal Sex, Begging, M/M, Pushy Bottoms, Spreader Bars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 03:12:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6638929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrinesunset/pseuds/citrinesunset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal is not a patient man. Peter enjoys making him wait.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Things to Those Who Wait

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zoi no miko (zoi_no_miko)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoi_no_miko/gifts).



Neal squirmed. The spreader bar, cuffed around his thighs, held his legs stationary, but that didn’t stop him from twisting impatiently, trying to look at Peter over his shoulder. He was on his bed on his hands and knees, his legs spread wide to display all his assets to Peter’s gaze.

“I thought you were going to fuck me,” Neal said.

“Patience,” Peter said. He was enjoying this view far too much to rush anything. Besides, he had Neal precisely where he wanted him, and it would do Neal well to learn a little discipline. “This is your problem, you know that? Too much instant gratification.”

“I didn’t realize this was going to turn into a Peter Burke lecture.”

“Remind me what you said you wanted.”

Neal squirmed again. “Do I have to?”

“I recall it had something to do with how you wanted me to fuck you….”

Neal rolled his eyes. “I said I wanted you to fuck me hard.”

Peter ran his palm across Neal’s quivering hip. “Well, right now I want to enjoy this lovely view.”

If he lowered his head, he could just make out Neal’s cock, which was so hard that it was defying gravity and pointing toward his chin. He head was wet with pre-come. Peter was sure Neal wanted to touch himself, but his position didn’t allow for that well. Besides, he was holding out for Peter to give him what he wanted.

Peter had been uncertain about the spreader bar when he found it in Neal’s closet, but now he was glad he’d decided to use it. It kept Neal open so wide, and Peter liked anything that kept Neal in position. Neal was terrible at staying put. He always said he liked it when Peter took charge, but Neal was a man who was used to having complete control at all times. That was a difficult habit to break.

But Peter was not an unreasonable man. More importantly, the sight of Neal on all fours like this, his thighs and ass spread open, was irresistible. Peter couldn’t wait to give Neal what he wanted.

He reached for the lube and quickly prepared himself. Then, he pressed a couple slick fingers into Neal’s ass without warning, making Neal gasp. Neal arched his back and pressed back against Peter’s fingers.

“You need this. Tell me.”

He peeked around and thought he saw Neal blush.

“I need it.”

“Ask me to fuck you.” He thrust his fingers in and out of Neal’s hole, teasing him.

“Will you fuck me already?”

“Not if you ask like that. C’mon, Neal. You’re a good conman—show me how charming you can be.”

Neal lifted his hips and said, sweetly, “Peter, will you _please_ fuck me?”

Peter smiled. “That’s more like it. Go on.”

“I want you to fuck me all night, until I’m too sore to walk.”

“That’s right. You won’t even be able to close your legs when I’m done with you. Maybe I’ll fuck you raw and keep you here with your legs spread. I bet I could fuck you two or three times tonight.”

Neal’s breath hitched and he started to rock his hips, fucking himself on Peter’s fingers. Abruptly, Peter pulled his fingers out. Neal huffed with disappointment.

Peter grasped his hips and lined the head of his cock up with Neal’s wet hole. He pressed in slowly, torturing Neal with the gentleness. Neal tried to push back, to impale himself more quickly, but Peter held his hips firm.

He pushed until he was fully-seated, and then paused, giving Neal a good taste of the fullness in his ass. 

After a moment, Neal said, “Peter, please. This is too slow.”

His voice was plaintive, a more desperate version of the tone he used when denied a trip to a fancy coffee shop or lunch at some restaurant whose name Peter couldn’t pronounce. It gave Peter a little enjoyment to hear him whine.

Peter shushed him. “Good things come to those who wait, remember?”

“So, you are planning on fucking me sometime tonight, then?”

Snorting, Peter said, “You’re a very pushy bottom, you know that?”

“Well, you’re not leaving me much choice. Should I beg some more?”

"If you want," Peter said with a smirk, not admitting how much he'd like to hear more begging from Neal's lips.

Neal heaved an over-dramatic sigh before turning on the charm. "Please, Peter. I can't wait anymore. No one fucks me like you do. You're the only thing I want."

Peter decided to take mercy on him. Slowly, he started to thrust. Neal’s ass was tight around Peter’s cock, but the lube made movement easy. 

Neal moaned. The muscles in his thighs were taut in the metal cuffs that encased them, as though he was trying to spread his legs even further.

Neal’s skin was slick with sweat, and he moaned sweetly as Peter gave him what he’d been begging for. Peter panted as his hips slapped against Neal’s ass with a rapid temp. With each thrust, his cock slid across the small bump of Neal’s prostate.

Neal was beyond begging, now, and he was beyond being greedy and pushy. Peter had him exactly where he wanted him, and exactly where Neal wanted to be.

When Neal came, his ass tightened around Peter’s cock. Peter wished he’d put Neal on his back. He would have loved to have seen Neal’s face as he came, and watched as his come splattered on his chest. Next time, perhaps.

Peter did not let up after Neal’s orgasm, and Neal squirmed now from the over-stimulation. The tenor of his moans suggested pleasure mixed with fatigue. 

“This enough for you?” Peter asked, panting.

Neal looked over his shoulder and flashed Peter a cocky grin. His brow glistened with sweat. “You kidding, right?”

But Peter could hear the fatigue in his voice. He wondered if Neal even knew how tired he was, how beat he would be later, once the adrenaline wore down.

The idea of fucking Neal senseless, until he was placated and _quiet_ , set Peter over the edge. He quickened his pace and came in a short, intense burst.

He took a moment to get his breath, and pulled out of Neal. He leaned back on his heels and looked at Neal’s red, wet hole. He smiled to himself.

Neal grunted as he shifted his weight from knee to knee.

“Peter? A little help here?”

“Oh, right.”

Peter undid the side cuffs about Neal’s thighs and pulled away the spreader bar. Neal sighed with relief and flopped onto his side, gingerly pulling his knees together.

Peter lay beside him, looking into Neal’s sleepy eyes. 

“Didn’t I tell you I’d give you what you wanted?”

Neal curled his arm under his head and smiled. "Doesn't mean I can be patient for it."


End file.
